As an academic myself (though not a writer on music), I certainly agree that academic writing on jazz, reflecting broader trends in the humanities, can offer some trivial observations couched in easily-parodied jargon. Too, a number of academic writers on jazz haven’t heard enough of the music. And many academics of all stripes don’t do enough to live up fully to the privileges of academic freedom. But this discussion, in turn, seems to trivialize academics’ role in jazz. The music is, if not a dying art, a declining art. In various ways, including sometimes jejune articles and books, academia is helping to keep the music on life support, whether it is by giving musicians support and another forum (I think of David Baker at Indiana University), publishing books on jazz, sponsoring research, or offering classes on the music.
I assume the book that inspired this thread is Charles Hersch’s Subversive Sounds: Race and the Birth of Jazz. I don’t know Prof. Hersch and I haven’t read his book. But a cursory look at it on Amazon indicates that it is more than the couple of sentences about Louis Armstrong’s fascination with Swiss Kriss. As the title of the book suggests, Hersch seems to be arguing that in more ways than we typically recognize, jazz at its origins was a subversive force, well outside the cultural mainstream in a number of ways. Not a stunningly original argument, but a serious one, and not ignorant, either. More strikingly, Hersch argues against the now-received wisdom that jazz originated around the country rather than uniquely in New Orleans. He may well be wrong, but that is an interesting argument worthy of real discussion.
Whether or not Hersch’s book is compelling, there is plenty of worthwhile recent academic writing about jazz. On the subject of Louis Armstrong, I have particularly enjoyed Brian Harker’s new book on the Hot Five and Hot Seven records—a fresh effort to explain the particular nature of Armstrong’s innovations. Harker’s book is part of a new series from Oxford University Press, which includes Keith Waters’ study of the records of the Miles Davis Quintet, 1965-1968 (lots of musicology, and no troubling bodily functions). Then there is Jeffrey Magee’s book on Fletcher Henderson—and so on. I think the music we all love has a better chance of surviving if we avoid stereotypes and try to highlight what’s interesting and exciting as well as what strikes us as absurd.